Chasing Shadows
by Jemima123
Summary: "He hasn't been back in nearly eight years. There has been nothing - no phone call, no email, nothing...not even a postcard. What are the chances of him coming back? What are the chances of him stepping through that door now?" Very high, actually. Virtually certain being the more operative words.
1. Chapter 1

A Princeton education certainly was something which Bruce Wayne had thought he was cut out for. Apparently the feeling was not mutual or reciprocated. And now Bruce didn't know what he was going to do.

A smirk tugged up at his lips in disbelief as his head moved back and forth and he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a certain building up of tension move into his mind as his back tensed, his spine bolting up straight at the mere thought of what was going to happen later on in the day.

She would never forgive him. She would never be able to forgive him for what he was about to do but he hoped that she would understand. She hoped she would have it in her to understand. Understanding was all that he needed. He could live with her hating him. He had hated himself for a few years after the unfortunate incident on that cold evening.

"Master Wayne."

Bruce turned his head to the side, looking onto the man who was moving towards him with smile on his kind face. He hadn't changed much in the time which had passed between Bruce leaving and returning. But then again, he looked the same when Bruce was eight.

"Alfred," he nodded back to the butler, passing him his large duffel bag which he took from him, slinging it into his other hand as he held one hand out for Bruce to shake. Bruce took it gently, his eyes moving upwards as he did so. It hadn't changed. Wayne Manor never changed. Bruce hated the place. He hated the memories which he now had in it for he knew they could never be reinvented. It was like the Manor was a representation of time standing still. If he had his own way then he would tear it down completely. But he didn't intend to stay long. He never did.

"How are things in Princeton, sir?" Alfred wondered aloud, moving up the steps to the Manor and Bruce reluctantly followed, trying to keep his eyes from moving around the large hall as they reached the steps and Bruce nodded, his hands burying themselves into his pockets.

"Fine," he assured Alfred with a nod. "I like it there. They just don't feel the same."

Alfred remained silent, not having a reply to that as he pursed his lips together tightly. His thoughts were not needed on the matter.

"I have the master bedroom set up for you," he simply responded and Bruce shook his head, trying to keep his face composed as he thought about that room. He didn't want it.

"I'll have my room, Alfred," he said stubbornly.

"With all due respect, Master Wayne, the Manor is all yours," Alfred informed Bruce. Yes, he had turned twenty one and he realised that meant he had control of the Manor. He had control of Wayne Enterprises and he guessed he had care over her.

"I don't want the room, Alfred," Bruce snapped and the butler remained still on the stairs, looking down one step and glaring at Bruce as he did so. "I don't want the Manor. It is like a mausoleum and if I had my way I would tear it down."

"This Manor has been in your family for generations," Alfred snapped back at Bruce, trying to keep his cool as Bruce noted his cheeks flush red. "Treat it with some respect and luckily you don't have your way. There are other people to think about. Not just you, Master Wayne."

"Why do you give a damn Alfred?" Bruce snapped back at him, his eyes moving all over his face. "It isn't your family."

"It is as good as," Alfred said, standing tall and jutting his chin out. "Now do you intend to stay in Gotham long?"

"I'm just here for the trial," Bruce responded dryly, his throat hoarse as he moved behind Alfred up the stairs. Thankfully, the butler turned into his old room and set his bags onto the bed. Bruce looked around. It was almost like nothing had changed. Alfred had kept the Manor in ship shape condition as was to be expected by a man of his calibre. He had done a fine job.

"And what do you intend to do after that, sir?" Alfred enquired, noting a pillow wasn't fluffed up correctly and so he took it upon himself to rectify that situation. Bruce shrugged, perching himself on the edge of the bed and clasping his hands together, looking out the window and into the grounds of the Manor.

"Who knows?" he responded. "There will be something."

He didn't intend to leave Gotham. He was just there for the trial. After what he planned to do then he was sure there was no going back. But Alfred couldn't know of his plan. No one could know of it for he was one hundred per cent positive they would try and talk him out of it. But his mind was set in stone which was unable to change. He was stubborn.

"Miss Wayne should be back soon." Alfred placed the pillow back down onto the bed and went about messing with the curtains. "She hoped you were intending to stay in Gotham for longer than last time."

"How is she?" Bruce wondered, ignoring the butler's final comment and Alfred sighed, nodding once as he did so.

"Fresh out of school and knowing she has the entire summer ahead of her. I think she is doing well," Alfred nodded, simply thinking about the state in which he had picked her up in the other morning. Apparently when Alfred had been whispering he had been too loud. And then there was the simple matter of the contents of her stomach moving onto his Rolls carpet.

"What is she going to do?" Bruce asked out of courtesy and Alfred's lips once again pushed themselves into a firm line as he moved around the room, angling things correctly.

"Maybe you should ask her, Master Wayne?" he suggested.

"Hm," Bruce simply huffed and stood up again and moved into his bag, picking out things from it which needed washing and those which were clean.

"Regardless of what you think, Master Wayne," Alfred called out as he moved over to the door, "she doesn't detest you for what happened to your parents. She knows it wasn't your fault."

"I know," Bruce simply responded. He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew whose fault it was and revenge would be taken.

…

The unemployment rate in Gotham was high. Everyone knew people were looking for work but the issue was the majority of them weren't suitable. But she had managed to find a Summer Job. She had thought about going the majority of June, July, August and September just sitting in the Manor and she decided against it. And besides, Alfred was always saying a job would teach her some independence if she managed to get the grades to move across the pond.

She drove the small Beetle across Gotham, making sure she focused on the roads so that she didn't have an incident like last time. Apparently two seconds to break isn't enough to stop you from hitting the back of another car.

And then the Manor came into sights. It was located on the edge of Gotham in its own little world which was nice sometimes. It was like hiding and the grounds were vast which she had loved when she was small. But there were sometimes when it seemed too big. It was too vast for just her and Alfred. But Bruce refused to move back.

The stones under her tyres crunched as she slowed the car down, parking it to the side of the Manor where she usually hid it out of sight. She grabbed onto her small, black purse and picked it up from the passenger side of the car, opening the door as she did so.

"Miss Wayne," Alfred called out. He was moving down the side of the brick building, two large, black bin bags by his side as he tossed them into the trash can and she smiled at him, moving the sunglasses from her eyes and placing them on top of her head. "How was work today?"

"The usual," she responded, waiting for Alfred before the pair of them began to move back to the Manor. "I did manage to tip water onto someone's lap after another waiter bumped into me. Luckily I salvaged their chicken carbonara."

Alfred smirked once as she grinned to the floor.

"Nothing new happened then?" he taunted her and she hit him once across the arm.

"Has Bruce returned yet?"

"Master Wayne is inside. He's in the study I believe," Alfred said to her and she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and nodding.

"How is he?" she enquired.

"Amiable," Alfred responded quickly. "I think he is worried over the trial."

"Aren't we all?" she muttered and left Alfred to go off in the direction of the study.

Bruce picked up a book which had been left on the dining table and he flicked through it quickly before the door opened. He was just about to assure Alfred that no, he didn't want a drink but it wasn't the butler.

He watched as she moved into the room, her arms folded as she closed the door and he took in her appearance. The baby fat on her face was still there, making her look younger than the age of eighteen. She had put on a bit of weight though but she wasn't overweight by any means. Her hair had grown down to her back as it sat in its ponytail and her eyes were large blue orbs.

And then he noted the outfit.

"What are you?" he tormented her gently. "A maid?"

"A waitress, actually," she responded, a grin moving onto her lips as she remained the other side of the room to Bruce. "How is Princeton?"

"It was good," he nodded and she cocked a brow as he went back to scanning the bookshelf.

"Was?"

"They didn't take to my charming personality," Bruce said, his voice low and his sense of humour dry.

"Obviously not," she mumbled in agreement. "So how long are you here for?"

"Not long," he responded quickly. "I take it you will be getting out of Gotham soon?"

"October," she replied hastily and Bruce nodded, looking back at her as he sat down on the sofa and she finally settled on the small leather chair next to the coffee table. The room was alight with the sun streaming in through the large windows. The bookshelves lined the walls and the desk sat tall at one end of the room, a piano not far from it.

"And where are you going?" Bruce asked. God, it felt like an interview.

"Cambridge, hopefully, anyway," she explained to Bruce who wrinkled his nose slightly.

"Cambridge?"

"In England," she nodded to confirm it.

"Right," Bruce said, not seeming shocked or showing any emotion. "Long way to go isn't it, squirt?"

"Just as long as going to the other side of the States is," she shrugged once. "I can still come back during holidays. What do you intend to do then?"

"I don't know," Bruce admitted. "I'm here for the trial."

"Of course you are," she responded with a roll of her eyes and he narrowed his own at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed and she stood up once, tapping the arms of the chair as she pushed herself from it.

"Well why else would you be here?" she wondered sarcastically. "It isn't like your family is here, is it?"

"Vicky," Bruce complained, leaning back and crossing his legs, still watching her as she balled her hands into fists. "You have Alfred."

"You don't get it, Bruce," she said, her voice tone coming out angry but she didn't move up an octave. "You just seriously don't get it."

She moved over to the door, slamming it shut and leaving Bruce to wonder what had happened to their relationship.

…..

A/N: So I was doing another story about Bruce and Vicky but I decided to do a back-story and change the other story slightly to follow this after I've done the explaining part. So please review!


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you not joining us for dinner, Miss Wayne?" Alfred enquired later on in the day as he moved about the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and placing them into a large steel pan. Victoria shook her head, checking she had everything which she needed in her purse as she smiled up at Alfred.

"I'm working, Alfred," she shrugged at him lightly, moving her black skirt further down her legs as she did so and slipping her flat black shoes onto her feet. She did look tired as her eyes contained bags under them and her skin was looking pasty. "They called me ten minutes ago and asked if I could go in because two of the girls have called in sick."

"I shall save you some stew for when you come back, Miss Wayne," Alfred said to her, picking a wooden spoon from the cutlery holder and dropping it into the pan, stirring the food as Victoria grabbed her keys from her pocket and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks Alfred," she managed to say as a voice suddenly coughed. She turned around and saw Bruce stood there, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded and a brow raised.

"Are you going out?" he asked her and she nodded.

"I'm going to work," she said curtly. The two of them had been civil and curt with each other in the afternoon after she had stormed out of the library. Bruce didn't seem to want anything to do with her. But that wasn't the case. He didn't want anything to do with Wayne Manor. He didn't want much to do with Gotham.

"The restaurant?" he checked again and Vicky placed her top lip over her bottom one and nodded quickly, motioning to the door with her thumb.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I need to go...I'll see you both later..."

She rushed out quickly, her hands pulling her hair into a messy bobble as she moved through the kitchen door and down the steps onto the gravel. Bruce chuckled once, looking down at the ground as he sauntered into the kitchen slowly. He opened a cupboard door, checking what was inside of it before Alfred look at him.

"I'm not a fool, Master Wayne," Alfred informed Bruce, his eyes focused strictly on the stew in the pan. "I just like to be ignorant."

"What are you talking about?" Bruce wondered, finding a bottle of water in the fridge and inhaling what Alfred was cooking through his flared nostrils.

"You and Miss Wayne, sir," he told him, finally looking across at Bruce. "Your tone to each other is civil. It is not something which I am used to hearing between siblings."

Bruce remained silent, taking a swig of his drink and then bottling it back up again, leaving it on the small table in the tiled kitchen.

"Vicky is...well...she thinks she's alone for some reason," Bruce said, trying to shrug off Alfred's concerns.

"She's not alone, sir," he replied hastily, his head shaking back and forth with haste. "She has a few friends. I think what annoys Miss Wayne is the fact her only remaining family member begrudges spending time with her."

"I-" Bruce said but the look which Alfred gave him told him to remain silent and he shut his mouth again, his lips moving into a thin and tight line as Alfred raised a brow at him. "I don't hate spending time with her, Alfred. She's my sister."

"Well maybe you could act more like a brother, Master Wayne?" Alfred suggested and Bruce shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice low and husky as the thought of what he was being told. "I'm not staying for long anyway."

"Then you should act quickly, should you not?"

...

Victoria had managed to mess up the order again. She didn't know what she was doing if she had to be honest. Her mind was preoccupied with the thought of Bruce and the thought of Chill's trial tomorrow. She knew it was going to be hard for Bruce to see the man who had killed their parents. And instead of writing down new potatoes the couple on table three now had baked potatoes.

She had bit her tongue, of course. With her best smile she had apologised and returned to the kitchen, managing to be told off by the chef as he warned her that he would tell the manager of her antics.

And she had held her tongue once again.

She continued moving about the restaurant until she was ordered to go back to the bar and serve. The bar was no better. Couples were moving around, ordering drinks which were far too complicated for Victoria to comprehend.

"What can I get you sir?" Victoria asked the next person on the bar stool as she looked down at her skirt, wiping her wet hands onto it before she looked into his eyes.

"Nothing," he simply said back to her and this caught her attention. She looked up into his dark eyes, her blue eyes growing large.

"Bruce?" she hissed at him. "I'm working."

"Not tonight," Bruce shook his head at her and she raised a brow, noting the bar becoming busier. "I talked to your manager and they said you could take the night off."

"How?" she snapped at him. "It is heaving and we're short staffed."

"Come on," he said simply to her with a nod to the door. He pulled his tie looser down onto his shirt and she rolled her eyes. "I'm taking you out for dinner."

"How did you manage this...Bruce...?" she wondered and he allowed a small smile to escape his lips.

"People are frugal," he simply responded and Victoria rolled her eyes, moving back and leaving Bruce to go and speak to the manager.

...

"You can't bribe people, Bruce," Victoria scolded her brother as they left the restaurant. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets as Victoria fished around for her car keys and she unlocked the Volkswagen. "How did you get down here?"

"Alfred drove me," he told her simply and she climbed into the driver's side of the car as Bruce took to the passenger side.

"So where do you want to go?" she asked him, placing her key into the ignition and looking over at Bruce who shrugged once, looking out the window. She bit down on her lip at seeing his vacant expression. If he didn't want to be here then he didn't need to be.

"You choose."

"Fine," she mumbled, driving out of the staff car park and onto the main streets of Gotham. "You're paying then."

"Fine."

"Do you want to say an actual sentence to me then, Bruce?" she asked him loudly, her voice sarcastic. "You came down here so I am guessing you're not here to just sit in silence."

"I need to talk to you," Bruce simply muttered back to her, itching the back of his hand as Victoria focused on the road, thinking about what he was about to tell her.

"Go on," she urged and he shook his head.

"Not here," he replied. "When we get somewhere."

The pair of them remained in silence, not really knowing what to say to each other as they pulled into a small car park and Bruce looked out the window as Victoria continued driving to the drive-thru and he eyed her suspiciously.

"A burger joint?" he asked her and she shrugged once, rolling down her window before placing an order. Bruce grinned once, thinking about how this could be his last supper and he looked out the other window, his lips tugging upwards. Victoria quickly paid for the burger and placed the brown bag onto Bruce's lap before pulling out, parking in the corner and out of the way after a haphazard attempt.

"So what do you want to talk about?" she wondered and Bruce wrinkled his nose slightly, looking down at the burger. He hadn't eaten from a fast food joint in a long time.

"Tomorrow," he said simply.

"I see," Victoria gently spoke, picking up a chip from the bag which Bruce was cautiously looking into. "What about tomorrow?"

"Chill isn't walking out of that courthouse," he said, still being cryptic and Victoria raised a brow.

"And you know this for certain, do you?" Victoria checked and Bruce nodded once more at her, looking at the French fry with wonder before placing it into his mouth. It did taste good.

"Yes," Bruce told her, his voice stubborn. "He murdered our parents...he's not getting away with it."

"And why can't he?" Victoria pondered. "Do you know what decision will be made tomorrow, Bruce?"

"No," he admitted to her. "But if he is found not guilty then I know what I need to do."

Victoria remained silent, chewing on the chip in her mouth slowly, her eyes looking at Bruce as he remained looking out the window, not touching the food which she had just bought.

"And what do you need to do?" she whispered to him and he remained silent, ignoring her slightly.

"Bruce!" she snapped at him and he managed to look back at her, his face passive.

"Justice for them needs to be served, Vicky," he said lowly almost so she couldn't hear him.

"Please don't tell me you're thinking about...Bruce..." she shook her head, clutching the steering wheel and resting her forehead against it, banging it on the leather for a moment. "You cannot take the law into your own hands!"

"I need to," Bruce said, his voice still calm, not rising a single octave. "I need to do this for them, Victoria."

"No!" she said, looking across to him, hitting her seat as she did so. "Do you think they would want this for you? Do you think mum and dad will be proud?"

Bruce remained silent, his lips pressed together firmly and Victoria shook her head.

"I won't let you do this, Bruce."

"Why not?" he wondered aloud, his voice harsh. "It isn't like we see each other, Victoria."

"Because I care about you!" she yelled at him. "Because if you kill Chill then you're as bad as he is."

"Don't compare me to him!"

"How can I not?"

"Because I am nothing like him!"

"Then don't do this."


End file.
